Its all relative
by Buffy2204
Summary: Time is relative. Season 8. SJ


_I don't own Stargate. I'd like to thank **Aoife-hime** whose story reminded me of another Einstein quote that I had to write about. I'd also like to apologise, I wrote this when I was very tired and this is now the FOURTH time of deleting then putting this up. **This** is why people have beta readers! Unfortunately, I don't have one……anyone wanna be my beta reader?

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It was a long briefing. No. Not a long briefing. A painstakingly, arduous and ultimately, pointlessly, _long_ briefing. SG-9 could go to a planet with no signs of civilisation _at all_ and either: find some (civilisation, that is) or _create _new life on that planet and then write the history of their world in a week, of course if the people were just recently brought into _being_ their history wouldn't be that long, still, creating life, that's got to call for a lot of paperwork right?. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Brigadier General O'Neill, SG-9 hadn't created life this week. He didn't think. He wasn't really listening.

Realising that his thoughts were wavering and he was no longer a Colonel that could ignore the "important" information the archaeologist was spouting, Jack forced himself to focus. This, however, led the young man to believe Jack was actually interested and he started to become excited, gesturing wildly while his team mates fell asleep in the chairs around him.

It kind of reminded him of Daniel.

I don't think Jack had ever felt as sorry for ol' Hammond as he did now. At least as a Colonel he could fidget, not really listen. Plus he actually knew what had happened and didn't really _need_ to listen. Carter would be there also, sitting calmly across from him. As a Colonel he could crack a joke, make her laugh.

"General?" Dr Founder queried from his place in front of the screen "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly," he said as the he shifted his position so he was sitting up straighter. "Carry on,"

Jack glanced at the clock. An hour! He was sure he'd been here longer than that, at least a couple of hours now. Maybe he recorded the start of the meeting incorrectly. He wondered if asking what time the meeting started would be impolite or disrespectful.

What was he talking about? He was a General; he got to do what he liked now, right? Still, it wasn't professional.

"General? Are you sure you're alright? You look sort of dazed." Colonel Dixon asked from across the table.

"I'm fine, now hurry up or this briefing is never going to end," Oops, did he say that out loud? Oh, never mind. He's sure they've come to expect it from him anyway. Sure enough, the Doctor was happily prattling to himself again.

"…The indigenous people regard this as sinful whereas some of the newer inhabitants from the neighbouring countries think it's…well… fun…" Huh? Jack looked around at the table at the comprehending faces. No one looked confused. He was sure they were just talking about pottery a moment ago. Jack subtly lifted the cover of the report on his lap to try and clasp some understanding of what they were talking about.

Nope. Oh well. He was certain he'd find out later when he read the thing properly. Well, there was no point in trying to keep up now; he might as well just let his thoughts roam. It was much easier than trying to keep them on a leash anyway.

Three heads turned his way. The ones seated at the table. Jack's brows furrowed. What? He wasn't doing anything. The ecstatic Doctor was still gleefully bouncing on his toes. All was right with the world. Oh God, no one asked a question did they?

No. They would have looked away by now. Colonel Dixon was staring intently at Jack's hand. Well, he might be staring at the report under the hand, or even the table but that wouldn't make everyone want to look in the same spot…would it? Maybe he just wasn't up to date with what was the latest fad these days. Maybe 'hand staring' was really cool now.

"Uh General? Could you stop clicking your pen?"

Right. Pen. Got it. That made sense

Jack glanced at the clock again. ONE MINUTE HAS PASSED? That can't be possible. It wasn't true. It was unfair. That just wasn't right! Morally, ethically, logically. Maybe it was broken. He'd have to check.

Mental note: Get Siler to check the clock.

He drew in a breath in preparation to sigh then realised that they may not take kindly to an obvious show of boredom. Oh God, now he had to let the breath out. He could this subtly he supposed.

Glancing around at the other occupants of the room he registered they were all focused on the briefing. Jack smiled; unfortunately, his lungs were now burning from lack of oxygen.

Ok, so he could just breathe out quietly.

How do you do that? Seriously, he's not actually considered this before. You never actually _think_ about breathing, do you? You just…do it. Ok, he _really_ needed to breathe now. Jack wondered if his face was turning blue yet.

He gave up and breathed out.

Loudly.

There was a split second of silence as everyone glanced at him. Even the guard gave him an odd look. Can't anyone understand that sometimes…people…just…forgot how to breathe? Wow, that even sounded stupid in his head.

Jack looked at the clock again. Yup. Still the same minute. Was someone punishing him?

How can time go so slowly? He'll ask Carter. Oh wait. She'd already told him…uh….something about relativity. Never mind. Wasn't important. What was important was…Jack opened the report again…Oh yes…what was important was the people of P3X594. And they're pottery.

"So you can see where I'm going with this, General," Dr Founder turned on him.

Damn.

Jack peeked around the room to grab a clue from one of the expecting faces. The Colonel looked smug.

Bastard.

"Tell me anyway," Jack responded.

The Doctor released a sigh that could rival Jack's own. "I'm requesting that we return to the planet next week to continue negotiations for the ore,"

"Sure, sure," Jack said with a wave of his hand "Monday 0900 hours," he supplied them.

"Thank you, sir,"

"Anything else?" Jack asked, really hoping there wouldn't be.

"No, sir,"

Oh thank God. "Dismissed,"

SG-9 filed out of the briefing room much to the relief of Jack O'Neill. In his defence, it was a Saturday afternoon. End of the week. Everybody was going home to be with their families. Granted that Jack didn't have a family to go home to but he'd recently purchased the next season of the Simpsons on DVD and he was itching to break it open.

God, his life is sad.

Wonder what Carter's doing? She doesn't have a life either, right? He hadn't gone to bother her in a while, something about being a General prevented him from doing that as much as he'd liked to.

Jack picked up his files and placed them "carefully" in his office (Strewn across the desk.) and headed off to Carter's lab with a spring in his step. He really shouldn't be delighting in the face that his friend had an equally depressing life but he was.

Misery really does love company.

He swung round the corner into a very dark room. This was Carter's lab, wasn't it?

It was, he was positive. How many times had he jovially skipped into her unsuspecting presence? Not recently. Not for a long time now.

Pete.

His heart sunk. Saturday afternoon. She was with him. Of course. He was such an idiot.

He could go and see either Daniel or Teal'c he supposed. They were always on base. It was always a laugh to bother Daniel; it wasn't the same as Carter though.

Suddenly, Jack didn't really feel like company.

"Were you looking for me, sir?"

Jack spun around and tried to conceal a very obvious grin. She was still here.

"Of course, Carter," he said. "Just wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat?"

Sam's expression saddened a little. "I was just about to leave, sir,"

Right. Pete.

It wasn't so hard to conceal the grin any more. "Sure, you've probably got plans," he said and started off to the commissary on his own. He could hear her shuffling from foot to foot with the indecision.

"Well, actually…" she started.

"Yes, Carter?" he turned to look at her.

"I could spare half an hour, sir, and I am kind of hungry," she said with a smile.

"Cake?"

"I could go for cake, sir,"

"Great," he beamed and walked off to the commissary together.

So they ate cake and talked about things. Well. Carter talked. Jack pretended to understand and nodded in appropriate places. Just like old times.

Jack joked. Made her laugh. Just like old times.

Nostalgia is a powerful emotion, Jack learned.

Sam checked her watch after finishing her explanation and jumped up, startling Jack out of his dreamlike state. Why was it, that whenever Carter explained something, he went all gooey? You're growing soft, O'Neill.

"Sorry, sir!" she exclaimed "I'm late now. Got to go," and she was off and storming towards the door. "Pete's gonna kill me," he heard her mumble.

Jack looked at the clock. They'd been talking for an hour. Can't be. They'd only just sat down. He'd only had her for a few moments! What's with the clocks in this place?

Damn Relativity.

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_Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity.- Albert Einstein_


End file.
